


Call Thy Name

by Ragga



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Brotherly Love, Gods and Goddesses, M/M, Magic, Powerful Senju Tobirama, Protective Uchiha Madara, Supernatural Elements, There is always a war going in the Naruto verse, Uchiha Izuna Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragga/pseuds/Ragga
Summary: Summoning had never been his forte. Still, Madara had done his research; he knew of a god who rarely if ever answered a summon, one who could not be found if they did not so wish to. Only one god who could not be tied down or forced to behave no matter the words or spells used, one whose true name was lost in time for anyone who had learned it had faced their terrible wrath when attempting to use it to their own advantage.Summoning them was a risk but a risk Madara was willing to take now that his, his family's, hisbrother's, lives were at stake. He was determined to succeed.This would decide the fate of the world, after all.
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 60
Kudos: 771
Collections: Lovely Pieces





	Call Thy Name

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something small. Cue unintentional worldbuilding and powerful people doing insane things for their brothers. What can you do?
> 
> Happy 2020 everyone!

Madara growled under his breath, painstakingly drawing runes onto the floor. The basement was quiet around him and only the flickering light of the candles on the wall kept him company. He dragged his sleeve across his forehead, wiping the sweat off. He sighed, pinching the skin between his eyes to ward off a headache, and glanced at the book spread on his side. He traced the figure he was etching on the floor, eyes flicking back and forth between it and the book.

It looked like the picture. He nodded once to himself. Good.

Just the upper right side left then.

He got to work.

His concentration was momentarily shot when the house above him shuddered. Only the fact that what he was working on could potentially save them forced him to stay still and not run towards his brother. Izuna was commanding the troops after sending Madara to restore his drained magic, preferably with rest. He was, certainly, in a manner of speaking; it was more stressful trying to keep his people alive under the siege than copy something on a larger scale.

Yet they had lost too many men to feasibly last long anymore and they both knew that no amount of rest will change that. Their food stores outside the wall were the first they lost; the ones inside would only last them two more weeks and their water source maybe a week longer than that should the block the enemy was building take effect… and the defences hadn’t broken by then.

Madara shivered as a particularly rumbling groan shook the building again. Light rain of dust fell on him and he sneezed. He quickly looked on the floor, afraid he might have messed the paint—but no, it was as pristine as before. He carefully blew away the dirt. No damage done. He let out a small sigh of relief.

With one last stroke, he completed the circle and its last rune. With shaking legs—he hadn’t left the room for hours, not after he woke up from the two-hour nap he had allowed himself before coming to work on this—he stood up and stumbled backwards to examine his work one last time.

Summoning had never been his forte. That one had been Mika’s, but she had been lost to them during the initial attack, severely crippling their battle forces. Her apprentices were nowhere near her level yet but they tried, god did they try; some could claim that they worked even harder than others to fill the void her loss created, though with all of them fighting for their lives that didn’t make much of a difference.

Still, Madara had done his research, had listened to Mika speak of one deity in particular with reverence. There lingered a god at the edges of all the numerous deities, a god who rarely if ever answered a summon, one who could not be found if they did not so wish to. He was whispered to be the only god who could not be tied down or forced to behave no matter the words or spells used, one whose true name was lost in time as anyone who had learned it had faced the god’s terrible wrath when attempting to use it to their own advantage.

Summoning them was a risk but a risk Madara was willing to take.

He slowly unwrapped his thumb from where he had bit it earlier that day—or was it even a day anymore, Madara had no sense of time down there— and imbued the paint with his blood. He could feel the magic, tying around his very being, and carefully inhaled through his nose and then exhaling with a hiss.

He bit the wound again and waited until it had welled enough to trail down his raised hand. He spread it thrice over his face in straight lines, one for each of his cheeks and the last down his chin. He then smeared both his hands on it until they could have shone red in the daylight he was sorely missing right now.

The ground above him shook again.

It was time.

“O’ Lord of the Storms, Master of the Tides, and all things Lost, hear my call.”

Madara took a step forward until he was standing at the edge of the circle, his toes just far enough not to touch the paint. He could feel the magic stir under him as he called to it, begged it to fulfil his request.

“I send thee my request, asking for the grace of the waters under thy command.”

He kneeled down, hovering over the gathering power.

“I ask thee to consider my plea, begging for thine assistance for the lightning of thy rule.”

He licked his lips, feeling the cold heat even through his spelled clothing.

“Towards thee I cast this request of mine as Madara, the head of clan Uchiha, and send it into the void of thy dominion and beseech thee to answer my call, for the time is dark and only thy presence could relieve us from the eternal night.”

The prayer sent, Madara slammed his hands down, blood connecting with blood, and, for a moment, the world was quiet and he could only hear his own heartbeat in his ears with it skipping with the rush in his veins.

“ _Please_.”

Another beat, two, three, four—

And then the world rumbled above him and the darkness turned blue.

Tendrils of magic climbed upwards from the circle and runes, glowing with the cold the colour reflected. Up, up, up they rose until they hit the ceiling and then they curved and curled around and began swirling with enough power to knock Madara down.

Yet he found himself unable to move, hands stuck to the circle even as his feet were pulled from under him. The force of it knocked the air out of his lungs and he pressed his eyes shut as the colours around began glowing ever brighter. The intensity was pressing into him from all around him and he curled into himself as he found it increasingly difficult to _breathe_ —

And just as quickly as it had started, it was over. Madara gasped for air, coughing as the weight was pulled from his back, sides, _heart_ , and his eyes snapped open, staring at the dying coils of light fading away. He raised his head just a little, just enough to see—

It was empty. His stomach dropped.

Madara had failed.

His head hung down again and his body trembled both with strain and exhaustion. He had failed. His people will certainly die now, little by little, until nothing and no one remained as they were removed from history and returned to the origin of magic to wash clean for others to use as they saw fit. Their enemies would enjoy tearing each stone away, burn each grain left behind, steal every book, every scrap of knowledge the Uchiha were particularly well-known for—

Izuna.

He had to—Izuna—for _Izuna_ —

Bare feet stepped within the line of his sight. The light died until only one candle was stubbornly burning by the door. He blinked. Feet. Those were feet, with pale skin that trailed upwards until they disappeared from his vision. He slowly followed them, leaning back as the skin turned into shimmery blue cloth Madara had never seen before, clinging to shapely legs. He didn’t even realise his hands had left the circle as he found carefully stitched ornaments and something that looked like silver but _wasn’t_. Lean built for speed rather than strength and then, then—

White hair, red eyes—

Red markings the likes Madara painted on himself.

“Uchiha Madara,” the being said and the ocean roared in Madara’s ears with it. Then, in a very human gesture, his—because the being presented as a male—brows raised. “You called?”

“I—” Madara trailed off, surprise taking him aback. “I, yes, I did. I, uh. We—”

“Considering the way in which you spoke, I thought you were in a rush,” the dry voice interrupted. “But do take your time, if you so wish.”

That snapped Madara back into focus and he grit his teeth, biting into his lip until it bled.

“Lord Storm,” he said, leaning down until he was on his knees though he didn’t lower himself more than that. “The Uchiha clan is in need of aid.”

“I would have thought you were mistaken in your plea and were calling for a Master of Flame instead had you not mentioned my domain as what you sought, not the one your clan made their name with.” The sea quieted, turning into a soft hum in the background. If they were not inland, Madara could have imagined them standing by the beach instead of being submerged at the bottom. “It is rare to see a fire mage looking for someone affiliated with the treacherous waters.”

Usually, that would have been the case. However—

“The Hagoromo clan has called betrayed its alliance with us and vied for the powers of the Moon to aid in our destruction, thus silencing our lines of communication with deities usually contracted with us. The rest of the deities, minor and major, my clan has attempted to contact was to no avail—”

“Kaguya.”

Madara stopped. The Storm God had his eyes narrowed and the red bored into Madara and his very soul. “Are you claiming that Kaguya has been released from her prison?” He leaned closer and suddenly Madara could have counted each colourless eyelash curling over his equally pale skin. The depths of the ocean thickened around them in strangling pressure. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“She… has,” Madara rasped. “And has taken her former guardian, the high priestess Uzumaki, as a prisoner of her own.”

“Mito…” the god murmured. The pressure eased and Madara gasped for air. “I thought it odd I could not find her. And what of her patron, the God of Creation, Earth, and all things Living?”

“Lord Hashirama’s whereabouts are unknown. The Fires that once were our allies all sweep uncontrolled over the land and are killing everything with the Winds’ encouragement; none can make contact with any of the spirits nor the gods they answer to.”

Madara watched as the Storm God pulled away and walked back to the centre of the circle. Even though he stepped over the runes, none were smeared even the slightest bit. “I see.” He turned back to Madara, pinning him down with his stare. “And thus you called for me.”

Madara swallowed but did not look away from the reds that had him spellbound. He answered honestly, “No one can control the storms on the sea nor the waters within its depths.”

The deity snorted. His mouth curved in what Madara could have called amusement. “It defies all attempts to capture and rejects all shackles, huh?” he said, questioned, though it was not much of a question. Madara nodded carefully.

“They, the Hagoromo clan, are trying to take control of all others. While the Sun gives, the Moon takes, and we are powerless to do anything but hinder its path. We need help. We can only fight if we have someone willing to bear the brunt and who we can support.” He resolutely stared ahead. “The Uchiha are blessed with strong magic. We can offer you much and attempt even more.”

“And what would that be?” the god asked, tilting his head. Only then did Madara realise there were pearls woven into his hair as they glittered in the low light. “What would you offer to a god your gifts do not match with?”

“Anything.”

The Storm God didn’t even blink. “That is quite broad.”

Madara didn’t care. “Everything I am, anything I have. I want my people, my brother, to survive and I am willing to go as far as I need to make that happen.”

He was regarded with eyes that seemed more curious than malicious though ocean often hid secrets no one could pull free without drowning themselves.

“Everything for a brother…” the deity mused. With long, graceful strides he was back in front of Madara and kneeling until they were meeting eye to eye. “I accept.” Then, with a sharp grin, he added, “Call me Tobirama.”

Madara… blinked. “Any relation to Lord Hashirama?”

The Storm God— _Tobirama_ —grinned ferociously.

“My brother.”

Without waiting for Madara’s response—and, holy shit, the one he had called for was one of the _Elder_ Gods—Tobirama then leaned in and sealed the contract with a kiss that tasted of blood and salt, stinging with the dark bite of tying his soul to something, some _one_ , older than the air he breathed. Madara grinned madly into the forming bond, opening his very being for the claim, and surged forward to taste the fortune bestowed upon him.

Their enemies would learn to rue their audacity.

 _That_ he swore.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to know what you thought if you have the time to spare :)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://hali-ra.tumblr.com/).


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